Editor’s note: I recently intercepted this letter from Robert James Ritchie III, better known as “Grandkid Rock,” to a buddy back home in Detroit. Dated July 4, 2048, it describes summer life on the family lake in Northern Michigan, where they were trying different things, in fact, very different things from the ones gramps tried, and smoking different things, specifically, weaker ones. It isn’t a glamorous life, but as dystopias go, this one is pretty tolerable.


Yo Joey,

I got your letter from Detroit. Things are going great up here—well, for county that doesn’t have paved roads or a real grocery store anymore, that is. The apple doesn’t fall far from the tree, you know? Gramps spent the summer of 1989 on this same lake, drinking, smoking dope and banging a hot 17-year-old. Well, guess what? I’m doing the same thing! Ba-wit-daw-ba! Actually, only sorta the same thing. Grandpa’s girlfriend sounded kinda like a ditz. This girl I’m banging isn’t. You wouldn’t believe how good she is at mending nets. She can make a net out of anything, even seaweed and twigs and shit, which is good if you want to eat up here. We’ve been eating a lot of beaver lately. I know, it sounds gross. I’ve been eating both kinds, actually LOL. And after you’ve eaten it out, a furry beaver will keep you warm at night LOL. But seriously, it’s good not to starve and freeze to death. We’re eating all kinds of rodents—beaver, squirrel, chimpunks, rats, a lot of fish, too. We bagged an elk the other day, but we’re salting most of it and making it into salami for the winter. So, yeah, as gramps said, we’re trying different things!

The garden is doing pretty good, but that bong quality schwag that we planted keeps hybridizing with the ditchweed. You got any ideas on how to make it stop? We don’t wanna have to buy schwag from Detroit or anything because that shit’s expensive.

I know you guys are still holding the web together in the city, but like Gramps, we don’t have no internet up here. Running broadband out to the lake is the last thing this county’s about to do. It can’t even pave its roads! Its idea of a sheriff’s department is some reserve deputies who provide their own horses and canoes. Actually, they’re chill guys, at least the ones I’ve met. They drink with us and smoke up with us. They were cool with it when we fed their horses pot brownies LOL.

Keep it real inside Eight Mile. I’ll be back down sometime this fall, hopefully with the girl.

–Grandkid Rock

PS: Speaking of Sweet Home Alabama All Summer Long, my girlfriend says Alabama is turning into some kind of prison farm, and Louisiana’s even worse. Do you know if that’s true?